Cinderella
by weeeell
Summary: It all started with a broken nose, moonlight, and a shoe. Jehan/Éponine. Modern AU.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N**: Sooo, this is it. I've finally got around to this. Yaaay. I have to say I'm quite proud of myself. Please review? Maybe?_

_ Oh, soundslikepeanuts -this is for you, for being awesome and nice and inspiring and talented and shit. (Guys, go read her fic. I swear it's the most amazing thing ever!) ONWARD!_

* * *

He stood on the railing of the bridge, the smell of earth and sewage prominent in his nose. Even to Jehan, who could find the beauty in everything, it was pretty foul. But the smell wasn't what he came here for, fortunately. He came for the faces. He'd taken to walking the streets of Paris early in the morning and late into the night, just observing. Contrary to his friends' beliefs, Jehan was not made up entirely of rainbows and happy thoughts-granted, those sentiments had a special place in his heart-but what he loved the most about his city was the people-the melancholy silence in the dead of night, the sunken faces, the hollow eyes. He'd always believed that despair was an entirely different type of beauty in itself.

As he jumped off of the railing, humming quietly to himself, the frail shadow of a person caught his eye. She-for this person was much too small to be a he, certainly-was playing a little game with herself, hopping from stone to broken stone, counting out loud. He watched on, intrigued. She hopped past him, not even noticing his presence. He had to talk to her, ask her something, dammit. He reached out, catching onto her jacket sleeve.

Instinctively, she whirled around, punching him in the face. He fell to the ground, clutching his nose. _Ouch. _ She shook her hand, cursing.

"What the hell, you fucking asshole? What do you-" she yelled, but cut herself off when she saw his clothes and polite demeanor.

"I'm so sorry for startling you, I-" he stuttered, noticing the way her hair caught the moonlight. "I just wanted to get your attention."

Her eyes softened. "Hey, I'm sorry for punching you in the face. Really, I am. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" There was no way she needed another blemish on her already scarred record, so she was just going to have to talk herself out of this one.

His face broke into a smile, and he winced. _Definitely broken_. "As a matter of fact, there is."

She sighed, resigning to whatever he could ask her to do. "Let me draw you."

"Huh?" Now, she wasn't expecting that.

"You're really, very beautiful, if you don't mind me saying." He said, blushing. "And it would mean a lot to me if I could draw you. Not tonight, obviously, I mean I don't have my supplies or anything, but… would that be okay?"

She raised her eyebrows, chuckling a little bit at his innocence. She shrugged. _What the hell, right? _"Sure."

"Yes?"

"Okay. When?"

"Woohoo!" he cried, jumping, before moaning and holding his nose again. "Okay-meet me here tomorrow night. And, um, could you give me your shoe?"

"My shoe?" she asked, incredulous.

"Um, you know, sort of as hostage." He laughed awkwardly. "That came out wrong. You know, like Cinderella, sort of."

She laughed with him, a raspy, natural sound that he could not get out of his head for days afterward. "Here." She handed him her ratty old converse, more grey than black. "It's not the best smelling, but…"

He took it gracefully, bowing. "Then, mademoiselle, I shall take my leave."

She shrugged again. _How amusing. _As she began making her way down the street, he called after her. "I have your shoe!" When she was sure he was out of earshot, she chuckled to herself. He was a very intriguing character, much different than the perverts that frequented her father's inn, and she might just have to take him up on his offer. He did have her shoe.

* * *

That night, Jehan went back to the Musain, waving a dirty converse proudly in the air, telling his friends all about His Cinderella and how her hair looked in the moonlight and how her eyes sparkled and-was he bleeding?-he hadn't noticed. Had he already told them about how she was going to meet him tomorrow? Well, you see...

Eponine went home to her shift at the inn, humming happily. Azelma didn't stop bugging her all night about what the _hell _had happened, but she was too dazed to care. Even when some drunk had made her trip and spill two glasses of beer down her shirt, she had just shrugged. What was another bruise on her body? She was Cinderella, after all. _Bibbidi bobbidi boo..._


	2. The Musain

_**A/N**: So fucking there! I finally got this dooooone__! I'm sorry if the POV is confusing. At the moment, I'm not even sure what it is, haha. I'll be posting the next chapter soon, I've got some of it done already. Tell me how I'm doing? I'll love you forever if you review! _(:

Éponine had stormed out of the house after an argument with her father, needing _air_, needing _out_. No way in _hell _was she going to rot in that shithole until all her life was gone. She'd get a good job, make a future for herself, defy everything her father had accused her of being-was what she had **_said_. **

Four and a half hours later, alone and shivering on the streets, she decided that maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to rush out of the house with no inkling of where she was going and no money in her pocket. Still, she was too proud and too pissed to go back, opting to wander the streets pickpocketing wallets at random.

Finally, her legs gave out from under her and she gave in to her exhaustion. Resting her head against the ancient brick of the bridge-when had she gotten to the bridge? And was that _her_ shaking the world?-she clutched her legs to her chest to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, and closed her eyes. Had she forgotten something? And why was her foot so fucking _cold_? With these thoughts she fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

He had told himself not to be excited. Really, he had, but the fire in her eyes and the rasp of her laugh had kept him awake at night and he couldn't help but bounce a little as he walked down the dirty streets on his way to the bridge. Humming to himself, he strolled up to the bridge, glancing about but not expecting anyone. The girl-oh my word, he didn't know her name!-didn't really strike him as a punctual person.

His eyes taking in the grey scenery, he spotted a small figure huddled in the corner of the bridge. He approached the person, planning to give them some money, until he saw a pair of very familiar feet. One converse-clad, one bare.

He shook her shoulder gently, dodging the punch she instinctively threw at him. This time, he had been prepared.

"Who the hell..." she muttered, immediately on guard. "Oh. It's you."

He smiled, and helped her up. "Yeah, it's me. Why are you sleeping here?"

She shrugged and yawned. "Tired."

Concerned but not one to pry, he stuffed it in his head for later and, digging into his messenger bag, pulled out her dirty shoe.

She took it and slipped it on her foot, not caring to tie the laces.

"Now, you've got to fulfill your promise, Cinderella." He said, attempting to act smooth.

She snorted in response. "Cinderella? I don't think so, love. Call me Éponine."

"Éponine." He whispered. The name was magic, as was its bearer. "Jean Prouvaire." He replied, extending his hand. "Or Jehan."

She shook it readily. "So where to, handsome?"

He cleared his throat, embarrassed at her teasing nature. "Well, there's a café I frequent. If you don't mind, I'm really most comfortable there."

She slipped her hand in his, and grinned, showing her dimples.

"Lead the way, Charming." She replied.

If he had known her any better, he would have known that this was all extremely uncharacteristic of her. As they had just met, however, he just blushed and led the way to the Café Musain.

Éponine, finding this café to be the café where she often went to in hopes of catching a glimpse of Marius, she suddenly became conscious of her hand in this stranger's, and pulled away. What if Marius saw them? She immediately regretted it when she saw the hurt look on his face, but didn't offer her hand again.

They walked into the Musain, conveniently ignoring the looks the students were giving them. Jehan led her to a secluded table in the corner of the room. With the way he curled his feet under him and arranged his supplies perfectly on the table, she could tell this was his favorite spot. When he decided he was ready, she shook out her hair and, as instructed, sat "very, very still." She was content watching his hands fly across the paper like a bird's, and the two fell into a comfortable silence, blocking out the world around them.

Suddenly, a clamor and shouting from across the room woke them out of their reverie.

"Hey, 'Ponine!" a voice yelled.

Éponine glanced up, and her face broke into a grin. "'Vroche!" she cried, gathering the young gamin in her arms. "You taken a bath lately?" she asked, crinkling her nose.

"Aw, piss off." He grumbled, but he was smiling.

"Whatever, Goldilocks." She teased, ruffling the blonde hair hidden beneath a thick layer of dirt and grime. "And where did you learn to talk like that?"

"I learned from the best." He replied sassily.

She smacked him across the head, and then patted the space next to her. "Haven't seen you around much lately."

He frowned, taking a seat. "Yeah. I know." She frowned too, and nodded.

The Amis, who had been watching the scene unfold with bemused expressions, took this as their chance to speak up, bombarding the two with questions.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Gavroche, who the hell is she?"

"Wanna come back to my place, babe?"

"Does anyone have any wine? I feel like wine. Hello?"

"What are you doing here, Ponine?"

Éponine, terrified and extremely uncomfortable with these strange young men practically jumping her, instinctively raised her hands above her head to shelter herself. Jehan, noticing this, stood up.

"Stop!" everyone turned at the sound of the gentle poet shouting. "L-leave her be! You're acting like idiots."

Everyone immediately sobered up, mumbling apologies to Éponine. Gavroche started cackling at the sight of the Amis running away with their tail between their legs, and Éponine found it extremely contagious. She tried to nudge him to stop, but it only made him laugh more, and soon they were both cackling together.

Grantaire marveled at how alike their laughter was, and Courfeyrac, ready to laugh at anything, started laughing with them. It took domino effect. Enjolras couldn't help but wonder what their cackling bunch must've looked like to the other poor souls in the café, and let out a chuckle. This show of emotion from the marble lover of liberty sent the Amis into an uproar, which was all it took for Éponine to grab Jehan's arm and slip out of the booth unnoticed, not before passing Gavroche a slip of paper with her phone number on it.

Once outside, Éponine breathed the sigh of one who has had a good laugh.

"Damn," she said, grinning. "That was interesting."

Jehan nodded, playing with the strap of his messenger bag. "Hey," she said, poking him. "It's getting late. I'll walk you home." Inside she was still burning with a fire she'd forgotten she had, and she knew today might be her last time ever feeling it- so why not add a little wood?

He frowned for a second before laughing a little sheepishly. "It's usually the guy who walks the girl home, you know."

She tilted her head, concerned. She knew that look, knew that hesitant laugh. "Why not?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why don't you want to go home?" she asked softly.

His face crumpled. "I'm… I'm sorry, I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," she said, taking his hand in her small dirt-streaked one, this time not worrying about Marius. Who needed Marius, anyway? "Come along, then."

"What? Where are we going?"

"I'm going to show you my man-cave." She replied, grinning.

_**A/N: **Soundslikepeanuts, I have to thank you again for inspiring me to-you know it-get shit done! Yay productiveness!_


	3. Jell-O and Spagetti-Os

_**A/N**: I'm really quite proud of myself for actually doing...something. Oh. Reviews are better than pizza! (Which is saying a lot.) Do you get what I'm hinting at? Eh? No? Nevermind... Really though, I have no idea how I'm doing if you don't tell me. (:_

**_Disclaimer:_ **_Man, I am so stupid. I always forget disclaimers. So, kind of obviously, Les Mis is not mine. Neither is When You're Smiling._

* * *

They arrived at the Bastille elephant, and Éponine disappeared under the elephant. "What are we doing here? Wait, Éponine? Éponine!" he called frantically. She poked her head out of a hole in the bottom of the beast.

"Hullo. Secret entrance." She winked. "Come on."

He wiggled inside, gasping at the interior, his poetic mind afire with inspiration.

"No shit." She said, noticing his marveling expression. "I borrowed it from Gavroche."

"A-about Gavroche," he stuttered. "What's the relationship between the two of you?"

"Well, for one, I fucking raised him." When Jehan raised a critical eyebrow, she sighed. "The ungrateful little shit didn't tell you about his older sister, eh?"

He shook his head, chuckling. "I should have known. You have the same dimples."

She smiled to herself, unconsciously raising her hand to her face. "We do? I hadn't noticed. Anyway, you hungry?"

He shrugged. "Fairly."

"Okay. Dalek spaghetti-os or jell-o?" Éponine asked, pulling both out of a cardboard box in the corner.

He raised an eyebrow. Is this what she ate everyday? No wonder she was so skinny. "Um… dalek Spaghetti-O's."

"Said like a true whovian." She smirked, winking at him. "Gavroche and I prefer the jell-O anyway."

She proceeded to climb nimbly out of the hole, and, using a makeshift rope ladder, climbed to the top of the elephant. Jell-O in hand, she seated herself comfortably on the edge of the great beast's vast forehead. Jehan, on the other hand, was having a harder time of it, and she had to reach out her hand for him to clamber up.

"Hey, this is pretty romantic, isn't it?" he teased when he finally got to the top.

She kicked him in the shin as a response.

As he took a big spoonful of his "chemical-filled noodle-wannabes" as Joly had so marvelously nicknamed spaghetti-Os, he made an effort to smile politely but failed miserably. Éponine just burst out in cackles.

"Pretty rotten, right?" she wheezed. "Oh, your faaaace…."

"-Is beautiful?" he finished for her, setting aside his unfinished container.

She chuckled, wiping her hands on her pants. "Sure, just keep telling yourself that."

Jehan settled with eating half of Éponine's jell-o, and pretended not to notice when she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Sing a song." Éponine mumbled.

"Excuse me?" he choked.

"Sing." It was more of an order than a suggestion.

He cleared his throat.

"_When you're smiling_

_ When you're smiling _

_The whole world smiles with you__  
_

_When you're laughing _

_When you're laughing_

_The sun comes shining through__  
_

_When you're crying _

_You bring on the rain_

_So stop your sighing, be happy again__  
_

_Keep on smiling _

_'Cause when you're smiling_

_The whole world smiles with you__."_

He ended softly. Looking down at Éponine, he found her to be asleep, tear tracks dimly visible in the starlight. With the image of her shining hair in his mind, he too, fell asleep.

* * *

Éponine got up before dawn, moving softly so as not to wake Jehan. She didn't know what had possessed her to open up to him. Perhaps it was the way the stars were shining, or the jell-o, or his voice that touched her soul… no. She knew why, but she didn't want to admit to herself how _safe _she felt around him. _No no no, Éponine. _She chided herself. _Remember Marius?_

With this thought on her mind, she decided to leave without saying goodbye. He would probably forget about her by noon, anyway. Plus, her father was more than likely extremely pissed, and the later she returned the harder he hit. Slipping off the elephant, she made her way down the dark streets, knowing that last night would come back to haunt her.

* * *

Jehan awoke, and rolled onto his side, reaching for his pillow. _Where was it? _

"Shit!" he yelled as he nearly fell off the massive elephant. Shaking, he tried to remember what he was doing here. _Oh, yes. Éponine. _Speaking of Éponine… she was gone. He sighed. He had expected it, but it still hurt. Staring at the sunrise, he tried to smile. _Happy face, Jehan, happy face. _But it was no use. He wasn't fooling anyone, much less himself. In the past two days, a whirlwind had torn through his life and left behind it a starry, brunette mess. _Wait, what…? _


End file.
